Sunday, November 30, 2014

TFSWF (The Freshly Squeezed Words Factory)

I’m at the end of the hallway waiting to cross 144th.
The guy looks at me. “How many points?”
“Umm.. 161,” I guess. 
“That's not bad. Are you prepping? Investing? What’s your KrophKheth? 17? 18?" And seeing me holding back - "20?!” And changing his voice - “Are you a Xarmia girl?” he says in a suddenly most familiar tone, popping yet another FreSq(W).
Me, guessing again - "Neither?!" Learning.
Him - ”You seem like a decent person. Don't you think it as your responsibility to own a Xerk account?” A Xerk? I can see his disgust as he jumps away.

Another one - “LeroL? ZeroZ? I like your stick-arm.”
My fault. That stick-arm should have been long gone. Should have never existed. “Thank you,” I guess..
“What for?”
Yet another biter. But I can't see him any longer.
“Wow! Your English is so good!” his friend says.
I look at him, neither of us waiting for an answer. The first guy is back, most probably a random guy, and next he leaves screaming an ode to yet another new idea "Dzong! Dzong-dzong!".
“Where were you born?” His thick accent simulates curiosity, of a helpful-in-a-condescending-way mixture.
I tell him.
“Oh,” he says. And proudly - “Isn’t that one of the new republics?” 
Yes, it was long time before I was born, but there’s no point going that route. He’ll know that too in an instant.
“So you’re here now. How do you like it?”
“It’s ok.”
“It’s ok, yeah -”
I can’t hold it anymore. I don't want to ruin the day. “Breathtaking at times,” I give a big smile, to a pretend feed.
“Oh,” he really likes these words. Circles of confusion, mother used to say, blurring out our reality. “So, how’s back there?” he keeps pressing, feign-grooming his fingers, while smiling and face-gesturing at several of his feeds. I'm still scared by these faces, their grimaces and smirks.
“I left when I was two.”
“Oh,” and this one makes it clear he’ll be gone in another second. Less.

I’m finally reaching the line. Q7, so it’s not too bad. They finished fixing E71 only a few days ago, so in 10-15 minutes I should reach Center 5. It is raining today, it says on the Daily Trivia feed. Don't ask me why, but somewhere in the Great Outside it's raining, with no sound.
The waiting ends, as the elevator's doors open. Bzzzz. Recharging. I get into the first one. There’s a cute guy, getting closer to exit. “Do you ever feel lucky?” He's talking as if to no one but his eyes are now checking me sideways.  Lucky? What does luck have to do with anything? You know what that is? All this hope thing? Being scared. That’s what it is. I do it in a scary voice. Gives me goose bumps. “Not really,” and I smile. He's gone too, pushed by the flow.

There’s a day ahead. No one sees no one. Or hears. Chatting. Racing on the information million lanes highway with second long victories. You didn’t hear that ?

"He'll be with you in a moment," the woman tells me in thick, just-had-my-fake-root-canal New West Coast accent.

I close my eyes. The memory of a summer morning spoils me. It’s a beautiful sunny room with open windows and two vases with fresh flowers. Tinny blue and sprinkles. Yellow too. And it smells like summer. The scent of stones impregnated with sun from another day I should have spent outside. Two years. A thousand points. You can do it. But it feels forever.

"Hello-wh!," the smile looks at me, cold, busy, somewhere else.
I don't mind. Can't fight the madness with logic. I'm an actress. None of it is real. It's my decision but the words are hers - When you realize that those things are not real, that life is a game, what’s left but to play the game?

"Ara, right?" Sure, I'll be Ara for you, and without waiting "Let's start!"

"So, intuitively we're looking into optioning the versatility of increasingly -"
I probably nod, I can see the perspective changing at a slight pace.
"Do you see the form entertaining -" That's me speaking. I trained myself well. It's a reflex now. And like any good machine I deliver precisely what's expected.
"We're happy to have you here."
I'm sold.

"And.. cut! Good. Lets give it another try." Two's never too many.

"He'll be with you in a moment." And she delivers it precisely in the same way. We're all professionals. The best, smartest machines.

For an easy 20 points we'll help you dream. Since one day you'll have many hundreds, it's an easy choice. And the time is never wasted. Because you're special. People will see it one day. I'm obviously not good at coming with these scripts. That's why I'm making 40 credits for acting them and not 200 like Mr. S here.

Done. I drop in class - we're having a critical blocker. Have to come up with a team name. InconspicuousDonut, ImprobableCouch have been taken already. I throw in my "ghijklmn hints I just know LISIBILITY means nothing" and see them, their eyes averting me like a ghost. "This is serious," the tall girl says, forcing the instant leader in her to take charge against her abilities. No one thinks I'm funny. Not even me. And even for irony you need a context. So, as they teach us, I push myself into the position. I deliver the speech and kick the can. We'll make a decision tomorrow. Everyone's happy.